by Billy Wong
"What tactic?"
The warrior gave a short nod and said in a low voice, "I understand you might have your reasons for this. Still, I wish you'd humor me by actually trying. There's little harm to be done in a spar where most witnesses hardly know what they're watching."
Most of the students probably didn't have the firmest grasp on levels of sword skill, and he might not even be that much better than some of the best among them. But it was those more knowledgeable classmates, who might view him as a potential rival, that he worried about. It seemed he had no choice but to get serious, though. He adjusted his stance to account for Pat's lesser height, which he hadn't done before for the sake of looking less competent, and his adversary smiled.
"Damn," Coach Jarvis said, "ahem, excuse my language. But it seems we are out of time. Rupert, Pat, you've done enough. We'll continue your assessments next time."
Pat lowered his wooden blade. "You lucked out," he said with a wink before striding nonchalantly away. He was right, Rupert supposed—as long as they didn't pick up tomorrow where they left off and moved on to assessing proficiency in other things like archery for example.
After they were instructed to eat dinner and then do what they pleased until bedtime, students inevitably attempted to strike up conversation with him. "That was some impressive defense against his blistering assault," said a slim boy with bangs cut straight across who walked beside him on the way out of the yard. "I tend to have trouble keeping up when an opponent pours on the speed, would you mind giving me some tips? In return I can help you with studying, people often tell me I'm good at that."
"I don't have experience training others," Rupert replied without meeting his gaze, "and wouldn't know how to explain what I do. Let the teachers teach you, they'll probably be a lot better at it than me."
He had a couple others approach him, not asking for help but just showing interest in him, and similarly brushed them off. In the mess hall, he ate at the table with the shy girls and pondered what he should do in his free time. Maybe browse the library? He wasn't sure what to read up on, but given this was the most famous school in the knowledge capital of the continent, he should be able to find something interesting... moreso than the slow paced lessons from his actual classes thus far, anyway. The library was housed in a building separate from the main school, so he stepped out the front doors and headed for the big square structure. As he walked along the edge of the square bordering both buildings, he noticed a commotion.
"Who do you think you are embarrassing our friend?" one of three husky youths asked a thinner one they surrounded. It was the boy with bangs who had spoken to him after their last class, and he recalled said boy's performance. He'd been matched against a stouter lad, who kept swinging his wooden sword down like a club while moving forward. Though no flashy expert, the slim boy showed at least a smidgen more competence as he repeatedly sidestepped his opponent's rudimentary attacks, and whacked his arms until the latter dropped his weapon and cried for mercy. Now confronted by the same boy and two of his cohorts while apparently unarmed, however, he stood frozen against the statue of a scholar in windblown robes. "Not so bold out here where there's no one to protect you, huh?"
"But I was just doing what the coach asked, why hold a grudge-"
"Shut up and get ready to be taught a lesson!"
Rupert hesitated over what he should do. On one hand, he of course didn't want to put himself in the spotlight by interfering. But it looked like nobody else was likely to do anything, the scant other witnesses hanging back to watch from afar or continuing past. It would be quite unjust for that slight boy to be roughed up by a trio of bigger bullies, who probably couldn't even take him one on one.
"Hey, you three! Back off and maybe learn something from what happened instead of wallowing in your bitterness."
"You're here!" the boy beamed. "Thanks for watching out for me!"
He shook his head vigorously. "I'm not following you. I just happened to pass by, that's all."
"So you actually talk?" the heftiest of the lads asked. "First time you deign to speak with those your age, and it's to defend this shrimp... you wouldn't happen to be lovers, would you?"
"That 'shrimp' beat your friend fair and square, now you think you can erase that by bullying him three on one? I doubt you'd be so bold if the odds were three on two instead."
"Are you trying to threaten us? You may have some fancy blocks with a sword, but knuckle to knuckle I'll punch your teeth out."
"I don't know about this..." said the fleshy-chinned boy who had been humbled earlier. "He seems really good, and he still has an axe."
The third bully with lazy eyes snorted. "Like he'd dare use it here. Come on, his boyfriend doesn't even have the guts to fight, we'll beat them down easy."
Despite their outward bravado, their reluctance to make the first move showed. They inched towards him, hands raised in front of them. Rupert exhaled. He didn't want to fight, but if he backed down they would probably return to tormenting their accostee. He'd better run them off at least for now, hopefully as quickly and with the least amount of lasting harm as possible. He faked a jab at the nearest and biggest boy, kicked hard into his knee instead to drop him on his face. The lazy-eyed boy tried to catch him in a bearhug from the side. He snapped an elbow out which dug into his solar plexus, hooked one of his arms as he gasped and tossed him down. The last bully gaped, wanting no part of Rupert as he turned and fled. That was enough for the two he had already hit, who picked themselves painfully up and followed him away.
"You saved me," the boy with bangs said, looking with reverence at him. "Thank you so much."
Rupert breathed deeply in and out, glad that hadn't gone any further than it did. "Don't worry about it. People like that annoy me, looking to strength in numbers instead of striving to improve themselves."
Footsteps sounded alarmingly near, having somehow eluded his notice until now. Fingers brushed his shoulder and he spun, reflexively lashing out with a punch at stomach level. His fist smacked against something soft which jiggled from the impact, a split second after he registered too late that a short girl with orange-red hair had appeared behind him. She backed up, clutching her right breast which he had struck. His instincts had led him to react assuming one of his foes came back for a sneak attack only for that to prove wrong, and now he'd hurt an innocent person.
The girl glared at him. She looked a couple years older than him and his classmates, maybe about twenty. An upper classman? A short but thick sword hung from her belt, but thankfully she didn't draw it. She bore some scarring similar to Pat's, which made him wonder if they were affiliated—but he shouldn't jump to conclusions, as that would probably be too convenient. "How rude, dark and handsome! I try to ask if you're alright, and you punch me in the breast?"
"Ask if I'm all right, why? They barely touched me."
"Common courtesy." Her breath smelled of alcohol. She touched her chest again. "In any case, no reason to hit before looking."
"I'm sorry."
To his only mild surprise, she raised balled fists. "Sorry doesn't cut it. Steel yourself and fight me!"
Another fiery pixie? It was rare enough to meet one in a day, though this girl wasn't quite as small and petite as Peggy. "You don't want to do that," he said, gesturing with palms out for her to stop.
"And why not? You threw the first punch, now own up to it."
"But-" Before he could say any more, she burst forward, winging haymakers that drove him scrambling back. The wind from her fist passing close to his face tugged at his hair, making his eyes widen at how hard her punches must be. Then she nailed him with one, knocked him careening away with head spinning and cheekbone numb. He went to a knee, seeing double of her. "Stop, I don't want to fight!"
She ran at him, launching a tremendous uppercut he just leaned back from. "What, scared already after tasting my fist? There's plenty more where that came from."
As skilled and athletic as Charlene and Peggy seemed, his o
pponent's physicality might be even more intimidating. Girls at this school really were something else, or maybe it was just his luck to meet the fighting exemplars among them so early. She threw a high kick he blocked, pain flaring through his forearms as they threatened to break from it. Very well. He didn't wish to harm her, but if she insisted on a fight, he would defend himself. He ducked another kick and pounded a heavy hook into her ribs, then her face. She staggered back... wiped her mouth and grinned.
"Finally found the balls to fight back, did you? Good shots, you pack a punch."
He looked firmly at her. "You should concede, or at least call a truce before things get any more out of hand."
"What? This battle has just begun." She leapt at him with a front kick he sidestepped. They stood toe to toe trading punches. He gave ground, threw a counter straight while she pursued. It missed as she swayed aside, but he grabbed her behind the head with the same hand and clinched to feed her knees to the midsection. She answered with body shots of her own that loosened his hold, broke free and spun right into a looping kick. Short of breath after her punches, he reacted only in time to partially dodge. While it missed the bulk of his head, her foot clipped his nose and warm blood ran freely. He squinted, vision blurring as his eyes watered. She followed up with a jumping punch that snapped his head back, and he fell. By now many students had gathered to watch. "Done already?" She stood over him and extended a hand. "No hard feelings. You have good skills, though I hope you'll be less reckless about using them in the future."
Rupert bared his teeth in a snarl as fresh heat flowed like lava down his back. "Done? I'm not done. I will never be defeated."
Hearing the sudden iciness in his tone, she recoiled. "What are you saying? If you want me to keep beating you, just ask." But a shakiness in her voice betrayed wavering confidence.
He snatched up a handful of dirt and flung it towards her eyes. She shielded them with a forearm, yet that in itself did the job of momentarily obscuring her vision. He reached for the axe at his hip and whipped it up. She dodged backward, but it still grazed her belly and drew a red line across it. His backswing opened another shallow cut on her arm. In her haste to move away, her heel caught on a raised pavement stone and she lost her balance. He sprang and swung, the axe's head biting into her chest. Gasps filled the air as she flew back in a spray of blood. She hit the ground hard, flipping over to land on her belly, and lay still with blood pooling beneath her.
"Gods," a girl said in a small voice, "he k-killed her."
Rupert gazed down over her body. He had warned her. This was why he sought so to avoid conflict—because once it started, he refused to lose, and the farther anyone escalated things the worse it would turn out for them. People often didn't seem to understand that until it was too late.
"Murderer!" other voices yelled. "Somebody do something!" "Get help!"
He started to replace his axe in its holder. Then the girl rose up. A huge gash gaped in her bosom, blood pouring down her trunk... but not only was she alive, she bore a slight smile. "Oh, that hurts. I guess you play for keeps, do you? Well, so can I." She drew her short sword, blade shining like a star.
"Who the hell are you?" he growled, nostrils flaring. While surprised at her revival and continued battle-readiness, he still couldn't lose. He'd just slay her again, and again if need be until she stayed dead.
"You finally ask? I am Diamond Fang Meg."
"Never heard of her. But it sounds like a fine moniker to go on your tombstone!"
They dashed at each other, weapons flashing between them. Invigorated by the risen stakes, Rupert assailed her frantically, every strike he threw feeling fast and accurate enough to cleave a mosquito in flight. Yet this girl Meg proved more than able to hang even with that gushing wound. She danced around his strokes, blade jabbing and slicing to open cut after cut on his limbs. He rocked her with his axe handle to the temple, kicked her onto her rump. "You really want to kill me just because I got the better of you hand to hand?" she asked as she rolled away from his downward chop. "Are you that bloodthirsty?"
Words coming out fast with the battle fury coursing through him, he raved, "I don't need to kill you! Just give up and I'll spare your life, no point fighting to the death just to inevitably lose!"
Her eyes narrowed. "So that's it huh? Your pride is such you have to win no matter what?" She paused. "Too bad! I'm not even close to accepting my defeat." Slipping under a swipe of his axe, she buried her shoulder into his gut and tackled him against the base of the statue behind him. Pain shot up his spine, then she pulled him back from the sculpture with arms locked around his waist. Sensing what she planned wasn't good for him, he slammed elbows down on her back to try and prevent it. She shoved him away from herself, lunged at him with a stab. He dodged, slashed her arm but took a cut to the side in turn.
"I'm grateful to you," she said, "I'd almost forgotten what a real fight feels like!" Was she insane? She ran along the rim of the statue's base, hopped off and nearly cleaved through his haft with a ringing chop that smashed him to his knees. He rolled behind her under a horizontal cut and struck at her back. She brought her sword over her shoulder to block. Rupert tried to push his axe forward and overpower her awkward guard, only to almost fall over when she disengaged to the side and a wave of dizziness hit him. Must be the blood loss. She seemed to be slowing down a hair too, but not as much as him.
Meg held her sword over her head. "I'm about ready to go all out. Are you ready?"
"You mean you haven't gone all out yet?"
She shook her head. "Nope. Blazing Force of Bae, unleash!"
Rupert backed away in bewilderment. Did she have magic? She jumped at him, and he understood the move. So it was just a high slice... he ducked, but didn't account for the simultaneous knee strike that hammered into his ribs. He parried her next slash while wincing in pain, only for his weapon to be torn from his weakened grasp and sent flying away. In desperation he evaded a thrust, grabbed her by the arms and fell forward, bearing her down. Straddling her, he punched her again and again. Kind of fortuitous for him to land in such favorable position without more struggle from her, but then it might reflect her own tiredness. When she tried to cover up her increasingly bloodied face, he switched to pounding her abdomen; when she shifted her arms to guard her body, he went to the head again.
"Stop, it hurts, you're going to make me cry..."
He slowed as he drew back his fist for another blow. "What?"
She bucked hard, pushing him up to give herself space to escape his mount. Before she could fully get out from under him, he seized her arm and wrapped his legs around it. No matter how tough this crazy girl was, let's see her win without the use of both hands. She rolled so that she knelt over him, but he kept his grip and twisted to try and break her elbow. Resisting, she set a foot under herself and rose, dragging him off the ground. She stood with him dangling from her arm, began to spin. What in the world was she doing? Too late, as she took a sideways step, he remembered the nearby statue. His back and head crashed against stone. Pain exploded through his body, then a bright light engulfed his vision. Darkness followed.
#
Looking down at the boy who lay unconscious amid pieces of statue, Meg put a hand on her hip and sighed while school guards finally arrived to take him away. Her other hand remained pressed into the gaping wound in her chest, from which blood still leaked between her fingers. She hoped it wouldn't hamper her for too long, for she'd surely feel it much more once the rush passed. "Whew," she said to no one in particular. "So this is the enigma Pat was talking about... he's quite the talent for his age. But Diamond Fang Meg is still number one at the University of Ostuh, I guess."
#
Rupert awakened on his back in a bed, white curtains around it preventing him from seeing the rest of the room. He was probably in the infirmary, though. He groggily tried to sit, only to be stopped as he realized he was strapped to the bed. So he'd lost in the end after all... now that he had his normal mind
set again, he was glad he hadn't killed the girl. He'd known it a bad idea to send him to a place where so much social interaction couldn't be avoided, but unfortunately his parents insisted. Now he would probably be ejected from school at the very least, yet he had bigger concerns in the form of legal repercussions for almost killing a fellow student. For once having friends might have helped, since they could've kept him updated on the situation. As things were, nobody even cared enough to check in on him. But it couldn't be helped.
He lay there imagining different ways this could turn out. At best, he pictured himself being expelled and returning home to tell his parents he'd told them so. It seemed unrealistic that he would get off so lightly, though. He'd probably be looking at jail time, and if he had to share a cell with someone less than friendly... well, the outcome depended on how many of them there were, but there would be a good chance of him not seeing the light of day again either way.
After hours of pondering his fate, the curtain beyond his feet slid aside and a plump woman in a nurse's outfit stepped into his little area. She did a double take. "Oh, you're awake? Why didn't you say something?" He shrugged. "Are you calm now? Not going to kill anyone?"
"Not without being provoked." She looked dubiously at him, then started to undo his restraints. He stared in surprise. "Wait, you're letting me go?"
"You're on probation, with your weapon confiscated. If you get in trouble again, further disciplinary action will be taken, so stay out of it."
He could hardly believe he was being let off that easily, and wondered how this had come to be. He wasn't the asking type though, so he just stood up—grabbing the side of the bed for support until a rush of dizziness passed—and headed for the exit.
"In case you want to know," the nurse called after him, "you've been asleep almost a full day. Most of your classes should be over already, so you might as well take the rest of the night off and catch up tomorrow."
Fat chance of catching up with no one to study the notes of or even talk to about what he'd missed, but missing a single day this early shouldn't be much of an issue. Examining the bandages that covered his worst cuts, he remembered to say, "Thanks for patching me up."